


Primadonna

by steingasse



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Nezushi - Freeform, Shion does not get a break from Nezumi's crap ever, Sleepy Cuddles, this was basically for my own amusement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3774838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steingasse/pseuds/steingasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion knew Nezumi probably wasn’t the most responsible person around, but he didn’t expect him to stumble in way after midnight either, still in drag and reeking of stale brandy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primadonna

He’d been on his feet for hours, washing dogs and carrying water buckets, and later preparing dinner and stoking the fire. He wound up eating alone anyway, with just the company of Hamlet, who’d stayed with him all day and was rather tuckered out from being chased around by soapy mutts.

It wasn’t that unusual for Nezumi to not be home in time for dinner – Shion didn’t exactly know his schedule after all or if he had any appointments other than his job at the theater. Nezumi didn’t really like Shion leaving the underground room for anything other than to see the Dogkeeper or Rikuga, convinced that he was going to get himself killed or kidnapped or both; It was one few ways Nezumi showed he cared, even if it meant that Shion spent a lot of time alone, wondering where the actor had wandered off to because of it.

Shion eventually plopped himself down on the sofa with a bowl of steaming soup. He was surprised he’d managed to ward off hunger for this long, waiting for his roommate to show up so they could eat together. Nezumi always complained that Shion was just bothering him with indulgent habits like that, but the scholar noticed the grateful smile that sometimes slipped through his impatient demeanor as they sat together, bumping knees.

“He’s never been this late before, though,” Shion murmured, causing Hamlet’s ears to twitch once. The albino couldn’t help but worry. He knew Nezumi could take care of himself, but as much of a threat as he posed to the city, and the fact that he was harboring a high-profile criminal…Shion didn’t mean to let himself get worked up, but the shock of finding out Safu’s location a few days ago was still lingering. He didn’t want to have anyone else in danger…

His disillusion was shattered at the sound of the door swinging open. Shion set down his bowl. “Welcome back…” The words died on his tongue at the sight in the entryway. Sauntering through the opening was Nezumi, or more precisely _Eve_ , one hand on the wall and a hip jutted out as he (she?) pouted and tugged their dress into the room. It must have been raining outside because the fabric was soaked and muddy, the pale blue silk ruined by muck.

“Ah, Eve?” Shion greeted uncertainly. He’d only come face to face with Nezumi in his ‘uniform’ once before and he was still uncertain how to behave. The sort of magic that’d overtaken him before was certainly dimmed however; Eve’s makeup was just as weathered down as the dress - dark circles of color pooling around grey eyes and streams of black kohl filtering down wet cheeks. “Dinner’s all prepared if you’re hungry.”

The performer dragged his eyes up to Shion’s . “Shion, I’m not Eve.” The words sounded weird and heavy, like each one was sighed. “I’m not Eve. Geesh,” he added, almost like an afterthought.

“O-okay. Why are you still dressed up?”

“I’m not…” Nezumi glanced down at his clothing, torn and ruined, draping him in failure like Cinderella after midnight. A soft curse found its way off his tongue before he tugged all the fabric further into the room behind him, slamming the door with his elbow. He hissed a sigh as he leaned against the wood, rubbing his bare arms.

“…Dunno, honestly,” he murmured after a tick. “I think I went out to sign autographs or…something.” His face scrunched up. “Or maybe that was yesterday.”

 Shion let the silence drag out between them, uncertain of what to say. ‘You don’t look good’? ‘Need help’? He observed Nezumi’s seemingly sleepy state, lips curled in a thin smile. Suddenly a high laugh snapped him out of his thoughts as the actor surged forward, grabbing Shion’s hands and holding them up, a sort of preoccupied grin gracing his paint-smeared features. “ _Nezumi?!_ ” Shion sputtered stupidly.

“I am already dressed as a princess,” Nezumi rationalized. “I demand a dance with Your Majesty. It makes sense.”

 _It doesn’t really make sense,_ but Shion couldn’t speak up to argue through his befuddlement. What Nezumi was saying was all over the place – it was like the time Shion had thought the man was slipping into hysteria except that this mood seemed somewhat mellower and not worthy of a bucket of water to the head.

“Alright!” His voice was loud and giddy, and Shion noticed a trace of blush dusting his cheeks. “Let’s see if you’ve improved. C’mon, 1, 2, 3 – 4, 5, 6 –“

“Uh, Nezumi-“

“1, 2, 5, - 4, 5, 6-“

“Nezumi, I don’t-”

“7, 8, 9...” the actor suddenly looked irrevocably sad and bit his lip. “…What’s after 10?”

“Nezumi,” Shion smiled shakily, holding the man’s hands close to his chest, in an attempt to stop him from moving. “You know, we haven’t taken one step during this ‘dance’.”

“No?”

“Yeah, you’ve just sorta swayed back and forth a bit.”

He blinked once. “Well, damn. Why’m I so dizzy?” Shion jumped forward with a shout to support him as he slumped over a bit, hands still tangled together limply and foreheads crashing against each other. Shion felt his face heat up at the proximity – the other’s face was _right there._ He remembered the last time they were in this sort of position, the way those lips had felt on his own, even if it had just been for a second, and now they were _right there_. His _breath_ …

His breath smelled disgusting.

The albino heard himself give out a sort of startled squeak at the revelation. “Oh my god, Nezumi.” He quickly felt his face, understanding that the flush there was not from embarrassment or exertion, but intoxication. “You’re _drunk.”_

An uneven chuckle filled the room, and any composed pretense of crossdresser broke.

“Eheh, took you long enough to figure, Little Prince.” His voice was strangely upbeat, happy, and he straightened his back as he spoke, almost falling backwards. Shion grabbed his shoulders to steady him, slightly shocked. He had never seen Nezumi stumble in any way before. Ever. “I think some fan bought me a handle…and then…this person, like one I didn’t know, took me to a…”His face scrunched up and he grasped at the air like he could catch the words. “One of those things, places, where there are people. Ya’ know?”

“You mean a bar?” Shion inquired frantically. “A party?”

Nezumi smirked, his grey eyes glinting mischievously. “Maybe. What, are you getting jealous?” He all but slapped a hand onto Shion’s arm, causing him to jump. The black-haired man didn’t seem to notice however. He was abruptly preoccupied, narrowing his eyes and slowly reaching up to touch his hair, various ornaments tangled in it from the wind. “…what’s this?”

“You’re still dressed up.” Nezumi blinked sluggishly. “Remember?” Shion prompted, feeling like he was talking to a child. “Here,” he sighed. “I’ll help you.” Shaking off Nezumi’s grip and the bit of anxiety he felt from the situation, Shion began working his way through the knotted locks of hair, pulling out beads and feathers, barrettes and the flowery tiara. It relaxed him that he was doing something other than just standing there as Nezumi wavered on his feet, so out of character it made Shion want to laugh riotously and take him to a hospital at the same time.

Thin pale fingers interrupted his work, twining into his own between the strands of raven silk. “Ah…” Shion locked gazes with the man across from him, suddenly sucked into lidded eyes like dim clouds. Those eyes always had a way of capturing his attention.

Nezumi’s voice was too deep as he spoke. It sounded eager almost, yet tender. “I like your hands there.” An inch closer. He could smell that bitter, vinous breath. “I don’t know…it feels…like I like it.” Their noses bumped. Shion swallowed.

“Nezumi, you’re not yourself. You don’t-“

“Alcohol brings out honesty,” he whispered simply, practically giving the boy whiplash from how quickly he changed the mood, his heart stirring alive in his chest. Nezumi’s words still slurred, but they were melted evenly, like honey. “Haven’t you heard that, Shion?” Shion’s name was spoken so gently at the end that he shivered, shutting his eyes against the sudden sensation and snapping them open to the feeling of lips brushing against his.

Nezumi was barely touching him, just letting his lips lightly rest there as he stayed still, seemingly waiting with a patience and gentleness Shion rarely saw on him. Shion felt his cheeks burning, his hands growing restless in the man’s hair, and he tilted his head slightly – a better angle. There was a sharp inhale as his partner followed the lead, pressing more firmly against Shion’s mouth and moving to grasp his hips lightly, pulling them closer together, almost touching.

Shion knew this was probably not a good idea – there seemed to be something intrinsically wrong about getting intimate with someone who likely wouldn’t remember later, even if it had happened once before – but those thoughts sank to the bottom of his brain, hazy and unimportant. All he could focus on was matching Nezumi’s pace, the electric feel of their tongues touching, the wet heat enveloping his mind. Nezumi tasted like poison and paint remover yet somehow Shion found himself fondling the knots in that indigo hair, wanting nothing more than to stay there, stay here…

Eventually Nezumi pulled back, resting a few inches above Shion’s upturned face. His cheeks were completely red now and he licked his moistened lips once before giving Shion a strange smile. Shion, still halfway in a daze, cocked his head.

“Well,” Nezumi breathed out. “You’re a promiscuous little fairy, aren’t you?”

And just like that, Shion felt like slapping him.

“Who are you calling a fairy?” His voice came out way more shrill than intended. Nezumi looked some cross between amused and nervous, his lips tilting up along with his eyebrows. “ _You’re_ the one who kissed _me!”_

Wriggling out of the actor’s grip, Shion stalked over to the water bucket and grabbed a towel. “I’m not having any more of these mood swings tonight. Get over here and wash up so you can sleep.” The man dragged himself and his dress over, nearly smothering Cravat and Moonlight in the soiled folds. He leaned over the bucket obediently and allowed Shion to pour water over his face.

“You’re mad at me,” he murmured in his familiar deadpan tone.

“You need to take better care of yourself!” Shion retorted hotly. He abandoned rubbing cosmetics off of Nezumi’s face, thrusting the towel into the aforementioned ’s hands, and starting untying belts and unzipping zippers to get his ostentatious outfit off. After some nearly torn seams and a mild amount of complaining the dress wound up on the floor, leaving Nezumi in just a small pair of briefs, looking rather pitiful with mascara running down his face and wetted hair tousled beyond redemption.

He gaped for words for a second, rubbing the towel across his face slowly, almost cherishingly. “You are…mad at me, I mean.” Shion dashed forward as the man tried to lower himself to sit but really just sort of slid down the wall with Shion keeping him from falling to either side. “I guess I do…make…cause you trouble,” he panted out.

Shion shook him lightly by the shoulders, somewhat worried by how heavily his eyes were lidding. “No, I’m not!” Nezumi didn’t appear to have heard.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled his tired gaze somehow intense yet drained. “Shion. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me. You’re so impo…important.”

“Ah, no, um. Please don’t. Don’t cry. Ah…” This was just getting ridiculous. Shion quickly grabbed a cup of water and handed it over, hoping it would serve as some sort of distraction for Nezumi’s addled mind. The actor stared at his reflection in the water as Shion continued to wipe off the last bits of make-up.

“Shion. I love you.”

The words, spoken with absolute clarity, made Shion’s hands still, his gaze flickering up to meet Nezumi’s. It was steady, yet almost forlorn. The albino felt his insides tingle and twist, a dull roar starting up in his mind.

He laughed apprehensively. “Oh, uh…” He finished off the last of the black and wrung the towel out. “…Okay?” His words were tiny and high. Nezumi let out a long exhale.

“You don’t feel that way.”

“No!” Shion shouted instantly, leaning forward and unconsciously resting his palms on Nezumi’s thighs. “I mean, yes! Shoot, it’s just…” He looked up at the performer, disheveled, flushed full of some virulent liquor. _Just, why do you have to be drunk to say so?_ “This is the first time you’ve said that and, well,” he chose his words carefully despite the whirlwind he felt inside. “I don’t think you’re in a state where I can believe everything you say.”

Nezumi’s grey orbs stared back at him, strangely large and childish. When he spoke his voice was quiet yet fervent. “Will you believe me if I say it again? In the morning?

Shion thought about how the actor was likely to feel when the sun came up and wondered if he’d be able to love anything with that kind of headache.  “Yes, if you say it in the morning I’ll believe you.”

At this, Nezumi relaxed. A small smile graced his lips, different from the cocky expression of earlier. Shion tore his eyes away, encouraging the man to drink his water and trying to cool his burning cheeks.

“Go crawl in bed. I’ll be over in a sec.”

Shion washed himself up and changed. He lit a candle and put out the fire for the stove after storing away all the food. The mice snuggled together on the couch as he made his way over to the bed, placing an empty pail near Nezumi’s head, just in case.

Setting the candle on the side table, Shion climbed over Nezumi’s prone form to the side closest the wall. He could hear Nezumi’s breathing, rhythmic, but not quite slow enough to indicate sleep. He slid under the covers, the dip of the mattress naturally pulling him close to Nezumi’s side. Shion sometimes wondered, but never complained about, why the two of them both slept in the same bed when there was a perfectly usable couch not five feet away. They would certainly rest better that way, with less kicking and pushing and falling out of bed in the middle of night because someone decided they needed more leg space. It was one of the Things They Never Addressed – along with handholding, certain remarks, Nezumi playing with Shion’s hair, and the cuddling that usually accompanied the aforementioned sleeping arrangements, just to name a few.

Nezumi turned to face Shion under the covers, his features barely distinguishable in the dim light. His breath washed over Shion, vaguely less toxic thanks to large amounts of water, and slowly an arm found its way across the smaller boy’s hip. Shion wiggled closer, acutely aware of his hands resting on Nezumi’s bare chest and Nezumi’s nose burrowing into his hair. He sighed, closing his eyes, only to hear Nezumi speak up in a drowsy voice.

“Oh, and just so you know, I’m not so far gone that I won’t remember that kiss.”

The candle burnt itself out.


End file.
